Now Kinsella has written her first novel for young adults, Finding Audrey, due June 9 from Delacorte Press.

USA TODAY has the first look at the jacket and an exclusive excerpt below.

Audrey is a 14-year-old recovering from an anxiety disorder, and the novel blends "family comedy, romance, and personal discovery," according to Delacorte.

"I always fall in love with my heroines, but with Audrey I feel a special protective fondness, too," Kinsella says.

Here are excerpts from a Q&A with the author provided to USA TODAY:

A: Why did you decide to write a YA novel?

Q: I had in my head three characters: Audrey, a teenage girl with social anxiety; Frank, a teenage boy with a computer game obsession; and Anne, their mother, trying to control and support her family as best she can. I wanted to write a book with both pathos and comedy. As I started to tell Audrey's story, it became apparent that I was telling a story which would appeal to young adults, and it turned into a young adult book. However, I think of it also as a book for anyone who has suffered from anxiety or bullying, played computer games, had a child who plays too many computer games . . . or just lived in a family!

Q: How did you come up with the character of Audrey?

A: Creating Audrey was one of those flashes of inspiration. As soon as I started to think about her, she seemed fully formed. I could see her and hear her and was desperate to write about her. She suffers from social anxiety, a condition I know about, but she also has a positive, quirky worldview and a great sense of humor. I'm very familiar with teenagers, having two of my own — but most importantly, I remember being a teenager myself.

Sophie Kinsella has written a novel for young adults, 'Finding Audrey.'(Photo: 2014 John Swannell)

Q: What do you hope readers take away from the book?

A: I hope readers laugh and are touched and most of all are inspired by Audrey's journey. She is so brave and good-humored, and her story is a positive one. I hope that anyone suffering from anxiety, bullying, or even just teenage woes can take heart from her. I also hope the book entertains parents of teens. I think they'll read it in quite a different way!

From 'Finding Audrey':

Mum and Dad are out for the day with friends at some garden show and they've taken Frank with them to "broaden his horizons," so they have no idea I'm doing this. I couldn't face the whole big deal of telling them and Mum fussing and all that palaver. So I waited till they left, got my key, got my money and the camera, and just left the house.

Which I haven't done for . . .

I don't know. So long.

We live about twenty minutes' walk from Starbucks, if you're striding. I'm not striding. But I'm not stopping either. I'm going. Even though my lizard brain is poised to curl up in fright, I'm managing to put one foot in front of the other. Left, right. Left, right.

My dark glasses are on, my hands are jammed in the pockets of my hoodie, and I've pulled the hood up for extra protection. I haven't raised my gaze from the pavement but that's OK. Most people walk along in their own worlds anyway.

As I reach the town centre the crowds become denser and the shop fronts are bright and noisy and with every step I have a stronger desire to run, but I don't. I push on. It's like climbing a mountain, I tell myself. Your body doesn't want to do it, but you make it.

And then, at last, I've made it to Starbucks. As I approach the familiar façade I feel kind of exhausted, but I'm giddy too. I'm here. I'm here!

I push the door open and there's Linus, sitting at a table near the entrance. He's wearing jeans and a grey T-shirt and he looks hot, I notice before I can stop myself. Not that this is a date.

His enthusiasm is so infectious I grin madly back and we sort of do a mini-dance, arms waving up and down.

"Shall we get some coffee?"

"Yes!" I say, in my new confident, everything's-fine way. "Great!"

As we join the queue I feel kind of wired. The music on the sound system is too loud and the conversations around me are hitting my eardrums with a force that makes me wince, but I'm going with it instead of resisting. Like you do at a rock concert, when your nerves get taken over by the force of the noise and you just have to surrender. (And yes, I appreciate most people would not equate low-level Starbucks chatter to a rock concert. All I will say is: Try living inside my brain for a bit.)

I can feel my heart pumping, but whether it's because of the noise or the people or because I'm with a hot-looking boy, I don't know. I give my order (caramel Frappuccino) and the surly girl behind the counter says, "Name?"

If there's one thing I don't want it's my name being shouted across a busy coffee shop.

"I hate the name thing," I mutter to Linus.

"Me too." He nods. "Give a fake one. I always do."

"Name?" repeats the girl impatiently.

"Oh. Um, Rhubarb," I say.

"Rhubarb?"

It's easy to keep a poker face when you're wearing dark glasses and a hoodie and you're looking off to one side.

"Yes, that's my name. Rhubarb."

"You're called Rhubarb?"

"Of course she's called Rhubarb," chimes in Linus. "Hey, Rhu, do you want anything to eat? You want a muffin, Rhu?"

"No, thanks." I can't help smiling.

"OK, Rhu. No problem."

"Fine. Rhu-barb." The girl writes it down with her Sharpie. "And you?"

I'm shaking, trying not to laugh. The Starbucks girl gives us both evil stares.

"You're John," she says, and scrawls it on his cup.

I tell Linus I'll pay because this is my documentary and I'm the producer, and he says OK, he'll get the next one. Then we take our cups — Rhubarb and John — and head back to our table. My heart is pounding even harder, but I'm on a high. Look at me! In Starbucks! Back to normal!

I mean, OK, I'm still in dark glasses. And I can't look at anyone. And my hands are doing weird twisty things in my lap. But I'm here. That's the point.